Fred Wouldn't Have Wanted This
by ObnoxiousSpontaneousCombustion
Summary: George knows Fred wouldn't have wanted this stuffy, depressing funeral. He wouldn't have either. But Molly makes him give a speech. "He would have wanted us to live every moment to the fullest and never, EVER take life seriously." ONESHOT.


George was standing stiffly in front of his Aunt Muriel, nodding along sorrowfully whenever she expressed her condolences. He kept his mouth shut and a sad expression on his face, determined not to think of Fred. Not because he was afraid he'd start to cry; a month after his brother's death, he was able to control his tears. He didn't want to start laughing.

Roughly ten minutes ago, he'd tried to imagine what Fred would say if he were here. Something hilarious, no doubt. He'd most likely conjure up some fireworks with his wand and make their mother scowl at him. But George couldn't do that; it was a funeral, after all. A somber occasion.

"I'm very sorry for your loss, dear," said another old, wrinkly, red-haired aunt, jarring him from his thoughts, "I know you and Fred were very close." _No joke,_ thought George. But instead of saying what he really thought, he rearranged his features into the grateful smile he'd had a chance to practice all evening and thanked her. She hobbled away on her cane, and her even older and wrinklier husband came over too.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am, son," he said giving the boy a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, "If you need to talk to anybody, you know who to come to." For no real reason, George felt the urge to say something incredibly rude back, even though his uncle was being perfectly nice. "You know, I lost a brother too." The young Weasley gave another faked grateful smile while actually thinking, _In that case, don't you bloody well know I don't want to talk anyone?_

"Thanks, Bilius. I'll keep that in mind." George could picture his twin laughing at his pitiful attempt at courtesy. _Well that'll fool them, _Fred would have said sarcastically. _You may as well write, "I give a rat's arse about your condolences" across your forehead in bright red letters. _George smiled despite himself, and then bit his lip to try to ease the laughter. When that failed, he forced himself to picture his brother's body after the battle. That did it.

"Attention, everybody!" called Mr. Weasley, waving his wand and making his knife and glass to lift into the air and clink together repeatedly. "Attention!" The glass cracked after the knife hit it too hard, causing glass shards to fly everywhere. Molly cleaned them up with a swish of her wand, then dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. Nobody laughed, even though in George's opinion it was perfectly hilarious.

"Fred was loved by all those around him," began Arthur Weasley, "Friends, family…" George zoned out the rest of his father's speech. He didn't want to hear his father's skewed version of how his brother had been, how honourable he had been. It wasn't him. Why couldn't everyone just mourn _Fred_, and not the perfect little boy he's being made out to be now that he's gone?

When it finally came to an end, he was jarred from his reverie by clapping and sniffling. So he clapped listlessly along with the rest while using all of his willpower not to glance at his watch.

"This is all very dull, isn't it?" asked Ron, who was standing next to him uncomfortably while clapping and staring blankly at Mr. Weasley. Grateful that he had his brother with him, George smiled.

"Yeah. And what's up with the speech about some angelic little suck-up?" demanded the older boy, "When are they going to mention the prank-playing screw-up that we all knew?" Ron smiled briefly.

"It's not what he would've wanted. I'm sure if he had his way we would've blown something up in honour of him."

_Jesus, George! _exclaimed Fred's voice in George's head, _You know I'd have done it for you. Do something interesting; I'm dying of boredom here!_ He knew Fred would have; but he couldn't. He'd never hear the end of it, and his parents would be livid. They wouldn't understand, nor would they care why he did it. All they would see is that he'd screwed up a depressing event by adding a little colour to it. It just wasn't fair to his parents.

"Yeah, you're probably right," agreed George. At least he could talk with his brothers and Ginny, who were still sane, about Fred. They'd remember his just the way he was – wonderfully annoying but totally brilliant – and not as the giant he was currently being made out to be.

Now Molly Weasley stood up and clinked her glass, without breaking it. Silence fell once more, and the plump redheaded woman started her speech.

With every word his mother said, George felt the urge to break down and cry getting bigger and bigger. It was beautiful. He regretted not listening to his dad's speech now, because he was sure that it had been at least as good. He didn't even particularly mind that she kept making references to Fred's "strong morals and great consideration for those around him". He didn't even have to fake his sniffles.

"Now George would like to say a few words." He glared at Mrs. Weasley and shook his head emphatically. She glared right back. As far as he was concerned, any extra respect she'd gained by giving such a moving speech was lost because of that glare. "_George_, would you mind coming up here?" she asked, making it clear that it was an order, not a request. _Yes, I would_, he thought. But it was his twin's funeral, and people would be all bent out of shape if he didn't at least clink his glass and say how perfect his brother had been.

So, George made his way through the sea of friends and relatives to stand next to his parents and cleared his throat, though there was no need. All eyes were on him. He knew they expected a deep, meaningful speech about how goddamn perfect Fred was. And he could do that. But he also knew that that wasn't in any way, shape or form what Fred would have wanted him to do or would have done if he had been the one to take that curse.

And he happened to be sick of the perfect Fred everyone had been talking about all afternoon. He wanted people to know about the real Fred, whether they wanted to hear it or not.

"Erm… yeah. All of you knew Fred, so I don't need to tell you how great he was. And by "great" I don't mean a straight-O student. I mean a terrible joker with a great sense of humor and no respect for authority whatsoever." George glanced at his mother, who was gazing steadily at him, as if not sure whether to glare or not.

"But that's what I loved about him most," he added quickly, "That's what we all loved about him most. He couldn't be serious for longer than fifteen minutes without exploding into a laughing fit, and certainly couldn't have kept himself from stirring up trouble for an entire afternoon. I think we should all live every moment to the fullest, in honour of my brother, and never take life too seriously, because, after all, nobody makes it out alive." To his encouragement, a couple people chuckled here and there, though he noticed his siblings were the only ones who really laughed. The others were just gazing solemnly at him, tears glistening in the corner of their eyes.

"And so, on that note…" George took a deep breath. "Take cover!" he yelled, pointing his wand at the table laden with his parents' most expensive silverware.

Everybody hit the ground as fast as they could, prepared for glasses, plates and cutlery to fly in every which direction. Even Molly and Arthur dropped to floor, clearly not willing to risk their lives to save their dinnerware. Ron was acting as a human shield for Hermione, and Harry and Ginny had simultaneously dragged each other behind a sofa. Even Fleur, usually so mindful of her appearance, was willing to wrinkle her dress if it potentially saved her life.

But nothing came.

The only man standing cleared his throat once more, and continued, "As I was saying, I know he would have wanted us to live every moment to the fullest and never, _ever_ take life seriously." He flicked his wand and a mug of Butterbeer came zooming out of the kitchen and into his hand. "To Fred."

As he took a sip, George knew that _that _is what Fred would have wanted.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: Hope you liked it! I tried to highlight the slight difference between the twins in this fic; George is a bit more in tune with people's feelings that Fred was. Also, I used British English so I could throw "brilliant" and "bloody" in there without it being a complete non-sequitur.**_

_**May the Force be with you and the odds ever in your favor. - SK**_


End file.
